Lionheart
by Breathing in Poison
Summary: Mikalea, to his people, is a gift from a god, a beacon of hope promising a new era free from the war that has plagued them for decades. To them,he is hope and revival-something deemed especially true when he presents as an omega, the symbol of new life. To Yuuichirou,his personal guard, he is a prince of a different kind-not a cold, godlike ruler, but a gentle holder of his heart.
1. Prologue

The arrival of the queen's first and last heir came on the dawn of the day of May's first morning, right as the rays of the sun first began to rise above the mountains that made up his future kingdom's northern border.

To his long-exhausted mother, his arrival was more than just a relief- it was an omen, a blessing gifted straight from the gods. For in her time of rule, her land had been not peaceful, but wracked with war and mistrust for almost as long as she had known it; and so it had been since the time of her father, and his father's father, whose wealth and greed had toppled others from their thrones and set the kingdoms around them against him. She had been born into war, and she had fought for peace and prosperity since she was but a child, her rule gifted to her early by an assassin's blade lodged deep in her father's throat. Politics, mistrust, and hatred had been her rotten playground; it had only been one year since she had been freed from its grasp, and it was on the dawn of the anniversary of the treaty she had wrought when her first son had been born to her.

And so it was that when she heard the harsh, desperate sound of a baby's wail- her pup clearing his lungs for the first time, announcing the kindling light of his life to the world- the growl that tore from her ragged throat was not one of pain, but of triumph. It had been a long, painful pregnancy, and an even more long and painful birth, and it had been one that she had emerged triumphant from. To her pain-riddled, weary mind, it had been another battle, one that had been more personal and more agonizing to her than any of the others she had fought in her life, including times where she had ridden out on the forefront of her army to fight among the people she called her own. And it was with a surge of fierce triumph that she realized that finally, her battle was over; she had fought, and she had won, and she now had someone to finally call her own, a family that had been denied to her for far, far too long.

The prayer-songs her midwives sang to thank the gods for a successful birth fell silent. Only the baby still wailed, outraged at his harsh arrival to the world, and the tired alpha on the bed opened her eyes for the first time in hours, gazing hazily but intently at the squalling infant, her pain-shrouded eyes lighting up with newfound vigor as she listened to her child scream.

Her growl faded, tapering down to a warm, rumbling croon, though her pheromones still spread sharp through the air, bitter with lingering pain, harsh with the instinctual overprotectiveness of an alpha. Bloodstained sheets shifted around her bare legs as she strained to rise, to calm her pup as her instincts demanded; only then did the watchers in the room move again, scolding her quietly as they laid her back to rest, soothing her with whispering promises of her child's well being. The head of the midwives (a matronly old omega with clear grey eyes and smile lines carved into her face, set apart from the youthful others) was the only one to calm her successfully, however; she had been there for her queen's birth, and she had been there to soothe her as her lonely pregnancy took a toll on her mind and body. And it was this omega who finally laid her pup into her arms, and it was this omega who watched with quiet satisfaction as the bedraggled queen on the bed slowly curled her arms around her baby, fierce, wondrous joy slowly lighting up her face as she watched him settle on her chest, the crooning of his dam soothing him to sleep.

"Your pup is quite alright. He's got strong lungs and he's not afraid to use them, as you might have heard, and he's a healthy weight. He's as fit as a fiddle, and he's just as strong as his mother is, if the fight he put up was any indication," the midwife said quietly, not wanting to disturb the moment. The new mother's shoulders were trembling, ever so slightly, as she began to register the weight of what she had brought into the world. "You've gone and given us a right fine heir, you have; all your worries have been for naught."

"He…" the queen murmured, stroking a hand lightly over her pup's fine golden hair. "So my mate was right; we have a son. Of course, I've never doubted him- it is an omega's god-given instinct to know these things- but it feels so strange to see it, as if he is here with me from beyond the grave." She seemed to check herself then, her hand stilling as she composed herself. "Forgive me from speaking of the dead in a place of new life. It is rude to remind our passed ones of the things that they have lost."

"Even if that is so, I doubt that your mate would have minded, my queen." The midwife placed her hand on her shoulder without a moment of hesitation, a steadying comfort to the grief that seeped into the queen's scent like poison. "He may be gone, but even if he were to be drawn here by you speaking of him, the life he would have seen would have been that of his newborn son. It would have brought him great joy to see you with him; that I promise you."

The queen drew in a breath, steadying herself, and her eyes gleamed with a fierce light, one wholly apart from her sadness. She was no longer a grieving alpha rocking her pup, but a queen once more, and the watchers in the room felt the return of her power like a blow to the chest, commanding them to submit, to listen.

"Maybe so," she said, and her voice was strong, clear, compelling all to listen. "But I stand by what I said before; I will not speak of the dead, not when there is a new life in the room, and said life is one that belongs to my son! Ring the bells, alert the council; a new era has dawned, and that new era had a prince to rule it, to guild it as we so deserve. Tell the people that today is a day of rest, a holiday; their new heir has arrived!"

And so the midwives laughed, joyful for their freedom, their voices clamouring together as they left the room to spread the word. Only the old midwife stayed by the queen's bedside, her hand still resting on her shoulder, watching with quiet, maternal affection as the alpha crooned softly to her nursing pup.

"And what of you, Queen Krul?" she asked, voice still soft. "Surely your prince must have a name, and surely you still have duties that you must attend to. The lords of the other kingdoms have yet to stop baring their teeth- Jiierda has been especially impatient as of late, sending their messengers back and forth with abandon. Forgive me for asking, for you deserve to rest after what you have gone through, but I cannot help but to worry about the work that you have yet to do."

"No," the queen murmured, not lifting her gaze from her pup. "Do not apologize for reminding me of my duties, no matter how unwanted they may be. The council must be gnashing their teeth at my absence." She drew in a breath, then looked up at the door with a fierce frown on her face, staring into the shadows. "Alert the council; tell them that I am coming, and that the heir has been born. Ask them about the progress of the revival of the rites between Jiierda and our kingdom- tell them to alert the black palace that the first step of our plan has been put into place."

"Yes, my queen," came a soft voice- the voice, the matron realised, of one of the omega assassins that had been trained for the war, his skills now unnecessary for anything other than running messages and intimidation. There came the sound of soft footsteps, running away from the room; then, a few minutes later, they came back again, their beat slightly different from those of the ones that just left. A small, slender woman with a round face and bright eyes peeked into the room, her head instinctively tilting to the side as soon as she caught the queen's eyes.

"The council has been notified, your majesty," she said, her voice different from the one that spoke in the shadows. "They say that the messengers of Jiierda has come with an update; the last of the Amane line has managed to keep her pup. She will birth it later in the year, near fall, provided that she does not try to get rid of it, but they doubt she would, as they have spies watching her every move."

Krul grimaced, matching the disdainful look on her messenger's face. Their kingdom had been in bond with Jiierda for many years before the Great War, but there were still many customs in their culture that they found distasteful- such as the crown's rigid control over whom they thought was even the slightest bit important to their ambitions. There were reasons why Jiierda was called the kingdom of demons- cold and refined though the people of Krul's kingdom were, they were not above naming others as they saw fit, and Jiierda's twisted ways certainly called for a proper insult.

"Tell the council that their message has been received," she ordered the messenger, and the woman nodded, turning to go. But something held her back; perhaps it was the soft, sorrowful joy in the eyes of the queen that she saw as Krul looked down at her newborn son, or perhaps it was the quiet noise the matron made as she turned to leave, the old woman's cloudy grey eyes levying a stern glare to the queen.

"And your son?" She asked quietly, in a voice that was clearly not meant to be heard by anyone other than the queen- but the messenger was young, young in the way she was not, and as sharp-eared as any omega that had come before her. And she was struck by the curiosity that so plagued the youth, and so she lingered in the shadows, waiting with bated breath for what the queen would say in response. The matron glanced knowingly at her, but made no move to dismiss her, instead choosing to focus again on the queen. "What about his name? The people of Sanguinem would surely want to know the name of their heir, and I'm sure the dark throne of Jiierda would be equally intrigued by what you decide to name him. He will rule a new era in our time- they may have fallen away from our customs, but war has not distanced us so much that they would not take note of the power in the title you give him."

Krul drew a shaky breath. Perhaps she felt the power in her action, or perhaps she was still burdened with bittersweet sorrow, mourning a mate who would never see his pup. Perhaps she was steadying herself, coming to terms with giving up war and returning to the past, chasing the last remains of a golden age, one that would not be ruled by her, but by the progeny that lay sleeping in her arms, chubby hands fisted into the fabric of her shirt as he suckled.

"...Mikaela," she murmured, so soft that the two other women in the room had to strain their ears to hear. "He will be named Mikaela. Gift of god, light of hope is what I name you, my son, and that is what you shall be to us, to the people that will come into your rule when my crown passes from me to you. You are our hope, our light, and it is with this name that you will be known across the kingdoms, and it is with this name that you will be passed into the history books, remembered through the eons as the beacon you truly are."

The worried crease between the matron's eyes smoothed, and the messenger in the shadows whispered a prayer, awe shining in her eyes. Hope bloomed in the room, carried on the soft golden rays of the summer sun as it finally broke over the mountaintops, and the last of a long winter's ice melted in the hearts of the masses as the council sent lords and ladies out to sing praise of the new-born heir, come on the morning of the first full year of peace.

For an exhausted queen laying on the bedsheets stained with the blood of her labors, the celebration was a quiet, distant thing, her heart too heavy with the memory of the lost to allow herself to cavort like those under her wing did. For though she was young, she was sharp-minded and far-watching, and she had been raised in halls rife with news of violence and meetings full of cold smiles and stone-faced generals pronouncing deaths like a number. She had met the snakes reigning on the black throne of the kingdom that their history was so intertwined with, had seen the cold madness in their eyes and the venom in their smiles. She knew that though the war was over, there was still strife yet to come, and that the desperate plan they tried to enact, to bring back the traditions of the long-dead, was sure to come with hardships. But though it was a victory won from a long, hard battle, it was still a victory. And so she closed her eyes, and inhaled the sweet, pure scent of her newborn son, and allowed the tears hid behind her cold mask to fall, assured that the watchful eyes in the room would not judge her for her weakness.

Later, she would come to learn that her misgivings were true. Later, she would come to learn that the alpha with the twisted smile and the pup he brought with eyes that blazed with fire would be just as much trouble as she thought they were, and that the change she sensed on the horizon was true. But for now, she was safe. For now, she could rest, and she could allow months of fear and false bravery to collapse and bleed out of her with her tears, and she could mourn the loss of an old era even as she looked into the brave new light of the future, as fierce and as bright as a dawning sun.

Later, she would worry. But for now, she was free, and for now she was allowed to cradle the son she never thought she would live to have, and she was free to weep for what had been given to her, free to promise him the life that she never thought she would have.

Life was suffering, and she had braved it and fought back against it without mercy. But for now, she was triumphant, and a story of pain and worry was no longer a story that she had to tell.

She had battled long and hard for a life that would be worthy of her future. She could only hope, that with enough time and dutiful tutoring, that her son would be able to say the same.

Somewhere, deep within the shadows, a man with demon eyes and a traitorous heart smiled, and slipped off to his quarters, satisfied that his plans for the future heir would soon trump all of what the queen held dear.


	2. Howling Ghosts

It was the dawn of a new era that followed the birth of Mikaela, heir to Sanguinem, harbinger of better times for many a weary warrior of their kingdom. And it was a dawn that soon proved itself to be one that could pierce through the dark stormclouds of the past, for the first and last son of Krul the Lioness survived the trials of his birth and his first weeks, as many a new child had not.

And so, under the queen's sharp eye, the heir to the era of new peace grew, lived past his feeble infancy to walk and run and learn to talk in hallways of golden light and pale white marble. And, though he was birthed into a world barely free of war, still licking the wounds of all its past hurts, he was happy, as happy as he could be with all the eyes of his inheritance watching him, thirsting for his light. He ran and sang and danced around the foot of his mother's throne, safe in his childish ignorance, soothed by the strong rumbling croon of his mother's voice.

For the other half of the bargain, born not too long past the prince's arrival, this happiness was not so.

Six years and six months after the birth of the Sanguinem heir, in a land to the southeast of Mikaela's inheritance, a boy with bright green eyes and hair as black as soot huddled under a table, watching with glassy, tear-filled eyes as the silhouettes of his parents writhed in the cloth doorway to his hiding room, their harsh, angry screams splitting the air. To him, a boy born in poverty, a boy born only for the queen's coin and not the virtue of love, this was normal. This was life. But six years of living in a household split by hatred did not lessen the hurt that came with it, the hurt that walked heavy in the steps of every sharply-spoken word, with every glowering look his father shot him or every sneering glare his mother gave him as she shoved him out of her way.

Six years of being born into a household that did not love him did not lessen the hurt of his parents hating each other. Six years of being born into a household that despised him did not lessen the pain of his parents screaming obscenities at him on his birthday, his nameday, a day of joy for others, a day of joy for people who had _families_.

"Look at what you forced me to create!" screamed a voice- his mother's, high, shrill, and hoarse with the force of her anger. "A monster! A devil! Have you not seen the look in his eyes? Have you not noticed the way we have starved ever since he clawed his vile way out of my body? The Hiiragis commanded us to bear a child for their cause, and their magic has cursed us! Gold, gold and silver and food they promised us, if only we could bear an alpha for the heir to that accursed kingdom of bloodletters. Well, we gave them their alpha! We gave them their fodder! And where are they now? Eating suckling pig under their high halls, leaving us to rot in the dust with the _demon_ they kindled in my womb!"

"Silence, bitch!" roared his father, and his shadow's arm writhed across the canvas, merged into his mother's silhouette as he hit her. Yuuichirou flinched with the blow, even though he hadn't been the one struck. "They gave us our gold! And what did you spend it on? A new dress, a new dress and a ring that could have fed us for many months. You say my pup is a demon, that it is the Hiiragis who corrupted him- but you lie! It was not our royals who gave him the devil's blood, but _you!_ _You_ , you vain cunt!"

"If I'm a cunt, then you're nothing but a rabid cur!" The dull sound of fist hitting flesh echoed from beyond the cloth barrier- his mother had hit his father back. Yuuichirou curled up tighter under the table and let the tears fall, let his sobs escape him silently with each breath. He didn't want them to hear him cry. He didn't want them to hurt each other, but he didn't want them to hear them cry even more than that, because if they were to hear him, they were to hurt him, and he was much less likely to get a birthday present if he howled out his despair than he was to get a boot to the chest.

Yuu opened his mouth and breathed in, trying to relieve the ache in his throat, but all he managed was to catch a whiff of his parent's scent, something that made him close his mouth so fast his teeth jarred together. It stank of rage and hate in that small cramped house, reeked of pheromones that made his heart pound, his instincts whisper at him to _run_ , to _flee_ \- but that was wrong! That was all wrong, because those were his _parents_ out there fighting, not a stranger, not an enemy! They weren't _supposed_ to scare him so badly, they were supposed to make him feel safe, he was their child, their _family_ , why didn't they love him? _Why?_ What did he do, other than be the monster that they said he was, even if he never tried to be a demon, even if he always tried to be good-?

A fresh wave of sobs hit him, knocking the breath clean out of him, almost more effective than his mother's punch. He drew in a breath of air, a desperate, despairing whine escaping his chest- and froze, because no, because he _couldn't_ have made that noise, that noise was death and pain and hurt, it hurts, why couldn't they love him what did he _do_ to make them hate him so badly?

His parent's voices cut out abruptly. Yuuichirou scrambled back, terrified, huddling under one of the worn wooden chairs as the cloth door was thrown aside and his father stepped into the room.

"Did you hear that?" he growled quietly to his wife. There was a dark bruise staining his eye, a red mark under his jaw, wounds made all the more ghastly by the flickering candle he held before him. Yuu stuffed his hand in his mouth to muffle any noise he made, barely daring to breathe.

"I heard." Yuu's mother slipped into the room behind him, her wild green eyes, so like Yuu's own, reflecting the candlelight. There was a look to her that made Yuu's breath catch in his throat; she was terrifying, her bleeding split lip staining sharp alpha teeth, a feral gleam in her eyes that made Yuuichirou's breath catch in his throat. "It's that whelp of yours, isn't it? I thought I told that thing to get lost. I'm sick of looking at its face."

"And he didn't, because he has his father's blood in him, and the blood of my kin never leave while there is still pack left." His father's voice was icy cold, dripping with an alpha's power. He didn't talk to his mate the way a packmate should- he talked to her like she was a vile thing he was bound to, like there was nothing more he would enjoy than to chew off the leg shackled to her and escape. "Shut your mouth, demon. You birthed my son. You'll deal with him whether you fucking like it or not."

His mother was silent for a moment, and then she swelled with fury, her scent turning poisonous with her rage. "Fine. So I'm a demon? Well then, the pup you forced me to have must be the spawn of the devil! Let me show you just how much of a demon I can be!"

She snatched the candle from his father's hand, holding it aloft, alone without its sconce. Hot wax ran over her knuckles, burned into her skin, yet she showed no signs of pain as she whirled about and began to search under tables and draws, fury etched into the lines of her face.

"Yuuichirou! Hellspawn! Come out!" Her voice was a shrieking roar, more ghastly than the cries of the wild black panthers that stalked their mountains, more bone-chilling than the gory tales of the dragons of old. His father was yelling behind her, screaming warnings about the flame, the old wood house, the dry straw ceiling- but his cries went unheeded, and when his mother finally threw aside the wooden chair hiding him and stared him down with eyes widened by bloodlust, it was not just the candle illuminating her face, but the kindling flames of fires dotted around the scope of the room, licking their ways up the walls, spreading along the old worn burlap of their couch, their rug, their dresser.

"There you are," she whispered, and her eyes were inhuman- they were the eyes of a wolf before a kill, the eyes of an animal crazed with the foaming sickness. She reached forward with one claw-like hand, and he gasped, opening his mouth to scream- but then she hooked her fingers into his shirt, and _twisted_ , and he choked as the collar of his shirt cut into his windpipe, his hands clawing feebly at his throat in a bid for air as she dragged him out from the table, out into the open air.

She released him as soon as he was out, grabbing the back of his neck to immobilize him, and he took a desperate, shaky gasp of air, looking up and around the room for a source of escape. His father stood before him, eyes wide, scent reeking of fear, mouth writhing as he spoke- but Yuuichirou could not hear him, too focused on the harsh sound of his mother's breathing, of the brightness of the flames devouring his house, of the cold gleam of steel from the knife in his father's hand.

"You're crazy!" His father's fear-riddled voice came to him as though in a fever dream, muffled by the roaring of the fires, distorted with something that Yuu quickly realized was fear. "You're goddamned crazy, you stupid bitch!"

"You called me a demon!" His mother's scream didn't sound human, the wiry strength in her grip on his neck terrifying. She was still holding the candle aloft, pointed towards the ceiling like a beacon to the heavens, seemingly oblivious to the fire slowly eating away at her flesh. "You called me a demon, claimed the source of our misfortune was me! _Me!_ Me, instead of the monster you called our child! Well, I've had enough, and may the gods curse you for as long as your soul walks this earth! Here's your demon, you fucking _bastard!_ "

She threw down the candle, and the rug underneath her feet lit up into flames, a roaring, writhing monster that crawled up the fabric of her skirt and ate away at her flesh. Yuuichirou screamed, tears from terror and the heat running down his face, still caught in a vice-like grip as the fire caught hold of his pants and burned the fabric into his skin. There was a screaming coming from behind him, from ahead of him, light flashing from all around him, burning his eyes-and then a cold gleam so unlike the rest of the flames solidified into the point of a knife, and then it plunged _into_ him, and cold fire lit up between his shoulderblades, warm heat running down his spine, heat, heat that melted into the fire burning at his feet…

And then he gasped, and he opened his eyes, and he was immersed-waist deep in snow, surrounded by a dark, unforgiving night. The only point of light was the blaze of his parent's house in front of him, a bright orange glow chewing away at the wreckage.

A low, mocking laugh came from behind him, and he whirled- or, as best as he could, with his entire lower body numbed by cold. Behind him, almost swallowed by the night, a man with raven-black hair and a self-satisfied smirk sat upon a mighty black warhorse, his fancy black cloak edged with red.

He reached down into his saddlebags and drew out a heavy brown bag, throwing it out to the blaze before him. It landed in front of Yuuichirou's face with a heavy _clink_ , the string around the neck loosening with impact, and the contents within caught the glow of the fire, revealing fat yellow coins stamped with the seal of the crown.

"Here's your fucking gold," the man said in a mocking voice, his breath clouding out white before him. "May the gods have mercy on your thrice-blasted souls."

Yuu opened his mouth, struggling to say something-anything- in response, but all that came out was a harsh croak that scratched painfully against his raw throat, his voice stolen by the fire. The man on the horse's eyes slid away from the blaze to look down at him, almost languidly, and the wind turned with him, blowing his scent towards Yuuichirou- a scent that even the unpresented pup could recognize. An alpha scent, unmistakeable even with the tint of sweet herbs layered over it. An alpha, like his father, like his mother, like what _he_ would come to be, even though he had not yet reached presentation age.

"Well, would you look at that. Our little bargaining chip is awake." The warhorse snorted, dancing to the side as if eager to run, but the alpha reigned it in. Yuuichirou eyed it fearfully; he had never seen a horse so big, and the noble clothes its rider wore didn't exactly help calm his nerves. "I was wondering if you'd ever wake up. You were pretty badly injured when we dragged you out of that fire. I patched up your stab wound just fine, but the burns on your legs would have killed you from the pain had we not had the mercy of the snow."

Yuu swallowed painfully, touching a bandage wrapped around his shoulders with cold-numbed fingers. He hadn't even known it was there. "What-"

"Eat some of the snow," the rider said, catching onto the pain in his voice. There was an edge of softness in the way he said it- sympathy Yuu was far from accustomed to. "It'll hurt like a bitch, but it will help clear your throat until we can get you to the castle to have herb-treated honey."

Yuu didn't care much about the pain- he had felt much worse at the hands of his parents- but he gulped down a handful of snow anyway. The cold stole away what little was left of the warmth within him, but it helped soothe the ache in his throat. Below the waist, he was numbed, only slight prickles of cold stabbing through his flesh. "The castle? Why are you taking me to the castle? And what of my burns?" Tears welled in his eyes as he remembered the devastation the fire had wrought. "What of my _parents?"_

The man on the horse sighed- with sorrow or irritation, Yuu could not tell."Your burns are treatable. They'll hurt more than twice the damage they did, but you'll heal just fine once we get an apothecary to you. Your parents…" He looked up at the fire before them, eyeing it with something approaching malevolence. The light of the flames caught in his pupils, reflecting back their colour- purple, a purple unnatural to the commonfolk, a purple known only to the high lords of the court. Once again, Yuu felt afraid. "Your parents were dead when we pulled you out, scorched down to the bone, and a good riddance to them. They were horrible people, too clouded by the commoner's beliefs, and they did more damage to you than what you should have experienced. I've watched their sins for a while, and I've been awaiting their deaths for quite a long time now." He spat on the snow, to where the fire still smouldered. Yuu couldn't catch his scent in the cold winter wind, but the curl of the alpha's lip told him more about what the lord was currently feeling than what his nose could not detect. "May the god's wrath humble them in the afterlife."

Yuu shivered, hot tears welling up and spilling over his frozen cheeks. "You _knew?_ But then...but when why didn't you come earlier?" Rage filled him to the brim, burning away the sadness in his heart. "You could have intervened earlier! You could have saved them from me! We starved in that house, and you watched, and-!" A violent shiver cut him off, clacking his teeth together painfully. "You could have stopped it! You could have saved us!"

The rider sighed. This time, it was sorrowful. "Enough of that. You'll freeze if you stay in the snow any longer." He unclasped his cloak, throwing it down onto Yuu's small, shivering form. The little pup gathered it around himself, sniffling, shivering even harder as the warmth settled in his bones and his body temperature began to stabilize. "Yes, we knew. Yes, we should have intervened. But we couldn't, because half our watch was taken from us, and the higher-ups ordered what was remaining to just watch long enough to ensure you survived. There were bigger things happening in the capitol for them to worry about."

Yuu sniffled. "You could have taken me anyways. They wouldn't have cared."

"Maybe so." The lord's voice was even softer the next time he spoke, laden with a hint of something that just might be guilt. It was hard to tell with the mocking smile still on his face. "But the crown didn't know that. To them, you're just a pawn, lost in the snow. They didn't care enough about what happened in that household to save you."

Yuu wrapped the cloak more securely around himself, shivering pathetically. That in of itself didn't surprise him. His parents have often talked of the wickedness of the monarchs, of how demons had stolen their hearts from them long ago, and now the heirs were born with souls as cold as the bitter snows of the mountains they lived in. At first, little Yuuichirou had used it to turn the scorn of his parents into praise- for if the king and queen themselves were demons, then surely he was royalty- but then the winters came and froze their crops and chased out the prey and left them starving, and they were left to die in the hundreds, with no word of help given from the crown.

His contemplative silence bored the rider. With a glance towards the sky and an impatient sigh, he finally dismounted, leading his massive black stallion over to where Yuuichirou lay shivering in the snow. He picked him up with little effort, as if he were no more than a sack of potatoes, and slung him over onto the saddle.

"Many a pup would love to ride a steed as great as this, you know. You should be honoured." The look he gave Yuu was sharp, but Yuu couldn't muster enough strength to care: he was crying again, tears streaming down his face, and restraining his sobs from breaking out aloud was taking what little energy he had left. The lord sighed. "I'm going to assume you'll want to ride behind me because of your stab wound. Have you ridden a horse before?" Yuu nodded stiffly. "Good. Cling tight to me then, and don't wipe your snot on my jacket, brat."

Yuu sniffled. The lord clicked his tongue, urging the horse forward, and they started on their trek down the mountainside, leaving Yuuichirou's burning house- and the little hunting village he came from- far behind him.

.

.

.

The ride itself was a blur to Yuuichirou, his exhaustion, pain, and grief making it hard to focus on anything more than the fine black cloth of the coat in front of him. At some point on his way down to the valley, they caught up to the rest of the alpha's riders, and he was helped down from his horse and tended to by a beta woman with sharp grey eyes and hair as black as night, and a strange-smelling woman with hair as orange as fire, a scent that Yuu later came to realize were the pheromones of an omega, a dynamic that he had never met before in his living memory. He had only had his parents to compare with- the other pups of the village would not play with him- and that of the old beta trader who would come to their door to sell the furs they cured down in the markets of the capitol, where the pelts of the animals that roamed the wilderness of the borders were scarce. Either way, the experience felt naught more than a fever dream, and Yuuichirou could not bring himself to care much as the two woman poured brandy over his burns and helped lift him into the saddle behind the person that they called 'Lord Guren'. Everything they did had hurt like fire, but he had not yet screamed from the pain, something that earned him much praise from the riders around him, something that might have made him swell with pride had he not been poisoned by the grief of all that he had lost.

It was to a dying day that he had been cast aside to die by those that should have loved him the most, and it was to a dawning morning that he opened his eyes and gazed upon what was soon to be his new home- a castle ringed by fiercely-armed battlements, surrounded on all sides by a deep moat lined with spears. Yuu's grief by then had subsided into a dull numbness, allowing him just enough energy to lift his weary head from its spot against Guren's back so that he may gaze down into the depths as they rode across the drawbridge.

Guren lead the horse down a long stone chamber, the iron of the stallion's shoes ringing loudly off the walls, and then dismounted, swinging Yuuichirou off with him. He then held him, cradled in his arms as if he were no more than a swaddling babe, and handed the reins off to a stablehand, who lead the horse away as the rest of their convoy rode over the moat, the clatter of the horse's hooves and the sound of their weary snorts thunder in the passageway under the castle.

"Slave girl! I need a healer." Guren bellowed the instructions to a mousy-haired young woman lingering in the shadows, then turned and squinted out into the courtyard with a grunt of displeasure. Yuu opened his eyes a little wider, trying to see what he saw, but the lord carrying him turned away before he could look properly.

"My lord." One of the other riders, a handsome blonde man with hair scraped back into a ponytail joined them, the smell of the pipe smoke he so favored nearly obscuring his scent. Yuu thought him to be an alpha, but he wasn't sure. One thing was for certain to him, though, and it was that he looked like a goat. "Must you have been so harsh with the girl? She was a pretty young thing, one so worn with the strain of waiting up for you. Surely you could have asked Sayuri to run for a healer."

"She was a slave girl, Goshi, and one no older than fourteen." Yuu looked over his shoulder, and caught the man- Goshi- grimace just before they rounded a corner. "You don't do favors for a slave, it is their job to serve _you_. If anything, I did her a service. Once the healer comes, she is free to rest."

Goshi murmured something lost to the crackle of the torches. Guren snorted in response, starting his way up a spiraling staircase- and then stopped, so suddenly that Yuu's teeth clattered painfully together.

At the top of the staircase, a sturdy young man with an ornately-embroidered vest blocked their path, his white-gloved hands resting casually on the hilt of a gleaming black sword. Yuu felt a chill race down his spine as he casually flicked his eyes from Guren's face to him, his burning red-brown eyes scrutinizing him like he was a fly that had just landed on his plate.

"Is this the result of the breeding project?" His voice was as smooth as poison, as dispassionate as if they were merely talking about the weather. "He's smaller than I thought."

"What, no greetings, your Highness?" Guren's smile, when Yuu craned his neck to look up at him, was not so much of a smile as it was a snarl. "And here I was, hoping that we were on good terms for once."

"Shut your mouth, Guren, or I'll shut it for you." The prince took a single step down, his grip tightening on his sword as if he wished to draw it. "You didn't answer my question."

"I wasn't aware it was a question, Kureto." Guren was as tense as a bowstring at Yuu's back. Yuu could feel tremors shiver through his arms, though he didn't seem to be afraid. "I thought you were merely being your cheerful, friendly self, as usual. Your little statement about shutting me up was a little distracting. Just how do you think you would accomplish that?"

The gleam in Kureto's eyes was truly terrifying. He descended another step, sliding his sword out of his sheath as he went, until the gleam of dark silver caught the glow of the torchlights. "Many ways, _Lord Guren_. For one, I could cut your cock off and shove it down your throat. That'll hold your tongue."

Guren laughed, a low, threatening sound that made the hairs on the back of Yuu's neck stand on end. "Cut off my cock? And leave your poor sister wanting? Sometimes I think your hatred for me is not really hatred at all, _Your Highness_ , but jealousy for your sister."

The blade slid out a little more. Yuu found himself captivated by the dull shimmer of it, so alike to the gleam of his father's knife in the moments before it tore his back open. Goshi made a soft whistling sound from before him, impressed by the cutting insult.

"My sister has more than enough to satisfy you, even without a dick of your own." His sword was a sliver of lightning, pure danger trapped in an obsidian-black case. "I doubt she'd notice if I made you an eunuch."

"Doubt it? _You_ doubt it?" Guren's voice was still light and teasing, but Yuu could feel how tense he was, how much he wanted to draw his own sword and lunge at the prince before him. "Need I strip for you, my prince? Need I remind you of how your dear foster brother and your dear sister fought for the right to mate me, even as it was I who was in rut? Why, I doubt there have nearly been as many suitors begging for _your_ cock as they have been for mine-"

The silvery-sharp _shing_ of metal sliding over metal was the only warning Yuu got before he was suddenly thrown to the side, his back hitting the rough stone wall painfully, the sharp edge of the steps cutting into his burns. He cried out in pain, eyes watering- but his scream went unheeded, swallowed by the resonating screech that sounded as Kureto's blade slid against Guren's nightmare-black sword.

Goshi shouted in alarm. Yuu pressed himself back against the wall, keeping his head ducked low, his legs drawn in- a wise move, as a particularly vicious thrust by Kureto threw Guren's blade into the wall with a mighty bang, right where Yuu's head had been.

And then someone grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulled him away, away from the two fighting alphas. Tears rose in Yuu's eyes as his wounded legs scraped against the ground, but when Goshi finally pulled him back into his embrace and took a few hasty steps down the stairs, he couldn't help but be glad. The burns hurt, yes- hurt badly enough for him to have bitten through his lip in an effort to not cry- but he was sure that a sword through the neck would hurt much, much more than that.

"Fuckin' hell," Goshi breathed-an uncomfortable occurrence for Yuu, as his breath smelled like pipe weed. "I didn't think the prince would have waited up to find us. He must have heard that Guren was leading the rescue, otherwise he wouldn't have bothered to stay awake."

"But why, though?" Yuu wiggled a bit, and Goshi readjusted his grip on him, slung an arm over his legs so he could rest easier in his arms. "What did Lord Guren do?" The clang of sword against sword was almost too loud for him to think- there was nothing more he wanted than to run far, far away, away to a dark corner where he could hide until it was all over. But he was still too weak from his wounds to do more than hobble, and the bandages would obstruct his movement even if he could somehow get away from Goshi. There was nothing he could do other than to try to swallow down his fear and let something other than raw instinct chew its way through his mind.

Goshi snorted. "He existed. Why else?" His mouth was set into a bitter, cynical twist, which made his goatee jut out at an odd angle. "There's many things the prince hates Lord Guren for, things too innumerable to count, though I can think of a few that are simple enough for even a pup to understand." He glanced down at Yuu, squinting inquisitively. "How much do you know about mating?"

Luckily for Yuu, he never had to answer the question. There was a horrendous squealing, scraping noise, and then a sword clattered to the ground, sliding down the steps towards them before Goshi managed to trap the blade under his boot.

The blade was made of the dark steel of Guren's sword. Yuu felt Goshi's breath stutter to a stop in his chest, right before he felt his stomach drop in fear.

Slowly, he looked up, dreading the sight before him- but there was no blood. There was no blood and no great open stab wound, nothing but the sight of Kureto's cold, violence-glutted grin and the tip of his sword pressed hard against Guren's throat. It shone like lightning in the torchlight- crackling, powerful, an instrument of the gods that could rend a man to pieces with a single flick. Yuuichirou was too captivated by the way the light danced off the mirrored blade to feel fear, though he knew from the taste of bile in the back of his throat that somewhere deep down, he was absolutely terrified.

Slowly, painfully, Kureto's blade slipped away from Guren's throat, the tip angling down towards the floor as the prince's hand relaxed. A bead of blood welled up in its absence, quivered, and then slid down the defeated lord's throat- one shining trail of scarlet, marking his failure in his skin like a brand on cattle.

"Checkmate," the prince said quietly, sliding his blade back into his sheath. "I've stolen your king. Noya is no match to Ramenki, lordling. You should have known this long before now."

"Checkmate, you say." Guren's voice was deadly quiet. "But how can it be checkmate when we are both playing for the same black king? You take my honour at your own expense, Kureto. Your father would not approve of your habit of taunting his greatest servant."

Kureto's eyes flickered from Guren's face to Yuu's, and then back again, as dismissive as ever. Yuu took a shaky breath- he hadn't realized he'd been holding it in until the prince looked away. Looking into the prince's eyes was like looking into the eyes of a dragon. "A servant whom he cares nothing for. Don't get cocky, Ichinose. You're easily replaced."

Guren flicked the bead of blood away from his throat, not caring as it stained the white of his glove. "I fucked your brother. As well as your sister, as you well know. I'm not so easily replacable to them as I am to you."

Both Yuuichirou and Goshi flinched at the insult- yet for some strange reason, all Kureto did was smile. "My brother is not my brother by blood. I care less about his honour than a rat cares about anything but its next meal." He flicked his fingers dismissively, resting his hand against the hilt of his sword. "And as for my sister...Mahiru has always been a sentimental fool. It would do her well to learn humility for once."

"And Mahiru has always been next in line for the throne." Guren's voice was still surprisingly pleasant, but it had taken on a hard edge to it that it hadn't had before. "Keep that well in mind, Kureto. She may be a fool to you, but she will be queen someday."

Kureto huffed out a humourless laugh. "And I am next in line after her. Do not forget that, Lord Guren." He glanced at Yuu once more, then turned and walked back up the steps. "Pick up Noya and take the experiment to its room to be healed. I'm sure my father will be pleased to hear it came out alive."

He disappeared down an unlit side hall, the black of his uniform quickly engulfed by the darkness within. Guren and Goshi stood frozen until they heard his steps fade away into nothingness- and then Guren let out a long, slow exhale, made a rude sign to where Kureto had gone, and started down the steps to retrieve his sword.

Goshi kicked it up the steps towards him to make it easier for him. His face was still white with tension- Yuu hadn't seen him nearly as scared before, and he had seen him run his horse down a snowy mountainside at a full gallop, whooping into the wind. "You're going to get yourself killed one day Guren, you know that?"

Guren bent for his sword, letting out a dismissive snort. "Me? While Shinya and Mahiru still live? Nah. Kureto may be terrifying, but Mahiru is the true high alpha of the litter, and Shinya is favored by their father, even if he's naught but a foster. As long as I wear their marks on my neck and their scents on my skin, I am safe." He picked Noya off the ground, wiping the dust and dirt off his blade on his pant leg before sliding the sword into its sheath. A silent outreach of his arms initiated the transfer of Yuu from Goshi's embrace to Guren's, who held him with ease despite just partaking in a sword fight. "You have any of those foul-smelling leaves you like to chew, Goshi? I'm in need of something to settle my nerves after an encounter like that.

Goshi's eyebrows lifted at that, an teasing grin settling over his face. "You hate those."

"And I hate our king, yet I still kiss the ground he walks on to get better wages." Goshi laughed, fumbling through his pocket and tossing a small tin to Guren. Guren drew out a wad of leaves that smelled remarkably like Goshi's breath and tossed it into his mouth with a grimace, then glanced down at Yuuichirou.

"Forget that happened, brat. You're not nearly old enough for this. Rots your teeth. And the royals your life's purpose was sold to don't want a servant with a mouthful of rotted teeth." He sighed, making Yuuichirou duck his head and wrinkle his nose; the scent of the drug stung his throat. "Kings and queens- they're all about presentation, kid. All pomp and circumstance and their glorious games of power. You'll do good to remember that. That knowledge will serve you well when you're older."

And that- that last hint to what he was made for, that last indifferent indicator that he had a purpose to serve in this castle, a job far from what he thought he had been born for- that was what broke him.

"You keep saying that." Yuuichirou's voice was a low, painful rasp in his throat- but the fires of curiosity burned him more than his smoke-seared lungs, sent an inferno raging through him that, kindled by a long night of pain and exhaustion, set the smouldering coals of his rage into a wildfire. And if his voice had a bit of a whine in it when he talked- well. He'd just blame that on the burns."You keep _saying_ that...that I'm _important_ , and that you need me for something. The prince himself said it! But what? What is it?" He coughed hoarsely, his hand coming up to gingerly touch his throat. Tears of frustration welled in his eyes as he thought of his parents, dying in the fire- a fire that should have taken his life as well, but hadn't. He almost wished it did. If he did, then perhaps it wouldn't have kindled the one in his heart. "Tell me! Tell me dammit! It's _my_ future! I deserve to know!"

Guren glanced at him from the corner of his eye, the demonic purple of his irises lighting up in the torchlight, and at once, the fire of grief in Yuuichirou's chest died out, doused by the ice-cold waters of a fear driven home by shouted words and drunken rages. For the questions he just asked were dangerous. The questions he had just demanded the answer to- and from a _lord_ , no less!- were questions that would have caused him a world of pain and nights gone hungry in his old house, no matter how relevant to his future or survival they may be.

But Guren didn't hit him. Guren didn't lash out at him, or scream ' _ungrateful brat, monster, demonspawn.'_ All Guren did was sigh, as if exhausted by the question, and transfer his weight to his left hip so he may rummage around in his pocket for the key to the door they had stopped in front of.

"That," he said, while Yuu reeled from the shock of not being punished, "Is a very good question, and not one that can be answered without a rather long, rather boring history lesson that I know a tired pup like you would have no patience for. I will tell you later, once you have been treated and have had a day of rest." He gave Yuu a stern look, most likely to prevent him from protesting- as if Yuuichirou would, after avoiding such danger!- then continued, adjusting his grip on his back as he slipped a key into the lock and jiggled it open. "Don't question me on this. What you were designed to do is important to the peace of not only this kingdom, but that of another that we have long been at war with. You must be well-versed on the history of what you have been bred for, so as to not risk the chance of us losing this new peace."

Something within the lock clicked. Guren smirked, pocketing the key and pushing it open- and then startled in surprise as a tiny little girl leapt off the bed tucked into the lefthand corner and ran to the center of the room, her teeth bared in a grin that dripped with self-confidence.

Her hair was purple. Her dress was purple as well, made of the finest silks, and her eyes held the deep red-brown hue of hickory wood. She was absolutely miniscule, far smaller than himself, or any other child he had seen- though that was not much to say, as he had only ever seen the others from a distance, and many other parents in the village told their ilk to stay far away from the Amane household.

Had he seen her from a distance, he would have called her one of the fae, and had run to gather iron and herbs that would protect himself from her presence. Up close, however, he had no such luck, and, as she came up to Guren and clutched at the leg that had Noya buckled to it, he could see that iron would do nothing to repulse her, anyways.

"Shinoa!" Guren snapped, and his voice was a snarl that made Yuu quiver with fear. Shinoa's only response was to grin up at the growling alpha, as if amused by his anger. "What are you doing up? Brats like you should be abed at this time of morning."

"Lord Guren!" Shinoa piped up, in a voice that had no doubt undergone rigorous training to make it sound saccharine-sweet, but only served to make it as piercingly annoying as the hum of forest bugs in summer. Her words were long and unusually complex for her age- but they still held the slur in them of youth, which proved to Yuu that, if anything, she was as young as he was."I was beginning to wonder when you'd be back, and with my family's prize, and so stayed up long through the night to see you. Is this the greetings you give, and to your princess, nonetheless? Why, I should have you beheaded for your insolence."

"Princess or no, you are still a child, and children should be in bed." Guren tossed Yuuichirou onto the bed as if to prove his point, ignoring his indignant squawk, and crossed his arms, glowering down at the young girl before him. He was still growling; a low, thunderous rumble that sent chills racing down Yuu's spine, instinctively compelling him to press himself down among the furs on the bed and wait until the danger had passed him by. Growls like that had never meant anything good in his former home, and so it was with fear and a bated breath that he watched for Shinoa's reaction, expecting a flinch at least, a cry of abject terror at the worst.

Neither came. If anything, it only seemed to amuse her all the further, and she responded with a delighted giggle and a quiet, mimicked growl that finally laid bare the pretenses of dominance posturing. "So silly, my lord, you already know my kin do not sleep well at nights. The night calls, and we answer! So what makes a Hiiragi, as my sister said, and I shall not defy her, as Mahiru always knows best, no matter what."

Guren sighed, uncrossing his arms and ruffling her hair. Yuuichirou let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, feeling faintly dizzy from his exhaustion. It was a miracle he was still awake: he'd spent many nights lying abed hungry, but it was usually the days where he had been badly hurt that he'd fallen asleep the fastest. He supposed he was still quite in shock from his journey here- either that, or he was too wired up with adrenaline from being in a new, strange place that he couldn't sleep.

"Where's the healer?" Guren asked glancing over his shoulder at the door as if it had the answers. Shinoa tugged at his pants leg and held her arms up, and he picked her up as if she were nothing more than an afterthought, carrying her over to the bed to sit her next to Yuu. "I called for her a while ago. Don't tell me that slave was too damn scared of waking her up to do her job."

Shinoa shrugged absently. Her big round eyes were fixated on Yuuichirou, small frame practically radiating curiosity. He leaned away from her stare with a wary frown, aware that she was his princess and he couldn't lash out if she touched him. Luckily, however, she made no attempt, as if she could sense that he was wired with tension, and merely settled for staring at him like a creep. "I dunno. Matron might be able to help, but she's even crankier than Mistress Thea when roused."

Guren grunted a reply. Yuu shuffled back, farther away from Shinoa's curiosity, and took a good look at him, noticing for the first time, with quite a bit of surprise, that he looked horribly tired.

The sound of bootheels clacking against stone floors interrupted the silence, growing louder and louder as they came closer and closer to the room. Guren angled his head with a frown, Shinoa's gaze drawn to the door, her Yuu curiosity overcome by the mystery- but it was a mystery for no longer, as the steps came to a stop and the door slammed open with an echoing _wham_ , sending a man with hair as white as snow and eyes as clear a blue as fresh ice tumbling into the room.

Guren startled in surprise, but had no time to react; in the blink of an eye, the newcomer had dropped the bag he was carrying onto a chair and crowded him against the wall, pinning his wrists and kissing him deeply, furiously. Shinoa let out a whoop and started clapping, as if what was transgressing was nothing more than a spectacle, but Yuu stared in slacked-jawed amazement, for he had never seen affection so fierce between two people, and, disgusted though he was, he could not help but be astounded by it.

The stranger broke the kiss, but didn't move away, pressing his forehead to Guren's and closing his eyes, breathing him in deeply. Guren, surprisingly enough, made no move to break away- even though he was bigger and broader in the shoulder, and, up until this point, had tolerated nothing by anyone else in the castle.

"Really, Shinya," he rumbled quietly, the corners of his mouth quirking up as if he was hiding a weary smile. "I haven't been gone so long for you to greet me like so. And right in front of the kids, as well. Completely indecent."

"Let them look," murmured Shinya, in a voice as silvery as his hair. "I know their pasts. Maybe they will learn love now, when it is easy, instead of having to adapt to it later, when their hearts have hardened." He dipped his head to the left of Guren's neck, breathing deeply, then stepped back. "And as for the worry...I heard Kureto speaking to his men. You're going to get yourself killed one day, Guren."

He let go. Guren massaged his wrists, an almost grudging look on his face, and followed, watching with a slight frown as Shinya retrieved the bag he'd dropped.

"Where's the healer? I called for her ages ago." There was a sharp note in his voice, one that promised punishment to those who had failed to comply with his orders. Yuu shivered and shrank down again. "Don't tell me she refused to get out of bed, joint problems be damned. I have a pup injured here."

"She didn't come because I told her not to." Shinya's voice was light, but there was steel under his words as he turned a vial to the light, squinting at the thick dark poultice within. "I wanted to do it myself. You forget, my lord, that I was trained as an apothecary before being sold and raised to be a royal mate."

Guren drew in a sharp breath, but said nothing. Shinya spared him a glance, smiling quietly, then looked upon Yuuichirou with curiosity, noting, without a doubt, the wary mistrust trembling through his frame.

"Don't worry, youngling, I won't hurt you." He approached slowly, sinking to his knees before the bed, his smile softening into something kinder, gentler. "I merely wish to look at your wounds. A house fire, was it? How well can you speak?"

"Hurts," Yuu croaked, then ducked his head, face flushing angrily as Shinoa clicked her tongue in sympathy. He didn't want her pity. "I can still speak, though."

"He speaks perfectly fine, Shinya," Guren rumbled from behind. "He wouldn't stop chattering once we got into the castle, damn him. All he needs is a bit of honey."

The corners of Shinya's eyes crinkled with his smile. "You're right on that one, at least. I'll give you a spoon of honey then, Yuuichirou, though I warn you that it will taste a little funky with medicinal herbs. You can have the sweet stuff later on, with some tea. That should soothe you." He rose, gathering up the jar of salve, and began to work the lid off. "Now, if I understand, you have been burned along your legs. Mind undressing for me?"

Shinoa snickered. Yuu flushed deeper, then crossed his arms over his chest, doing his best to mimic Guren's scowl. "Why should I? I've already been treated. And how did you know I was burned?"

"Goshi told me," Shinya said simply. "And he also told me that all they did was splash brandy over you and wrap you up in spare linens. That should be enough to stop infection, but not enough for you to heal. Now, undress, so that I may heal you."

Yuu didn't have much choice in the matter. He struggled out of his pants, hissing with pain as he moved his legs, even as Guren came forward to help him out. Shinya was the one who unwrapped the bandages; whatever he saw there, he did not seem to like, even though Shinoa, who had pushed her head under Guren's arm to see, whistled in appreciation.

"Those look bad!" she said, cheerful as ever. Yuu and Guren both glared at her, but if she noticed, she ignored it. "Maybe you'll scar. Wouldn't that be cool?"

Perhaps, if she wasn't so annoying, Yuuichirou would have agreed. Instead, because she was annoying, he scowled and said, "No."

Shinoa looked like she wanted to protest, or at least tease him about his fate, but Shinya cut her off before she could manage. "He won't scar too badly if I can help it, and age will fade them, anyways." He scooped out a globule of tincture and began smearing it on the burns, ignoring the way that Yuu flinched and hissed at the pain.

"Aww, but scars are cool." Shinoa's voice came as from far away. Yuu was struggling through a haze of pain and strange sensation- the burns stung and throbbed, but the tincture was cold, and left them tingling like needles. Either way, he was too proud to cry out. "He'll look like a real fighter for sure."

"The time for him to fight hasn't come yet." There was a faint tugging pressure on his legs- Shinya and Guren, Yuuichirou realized, wrapping up the bandages. "Just as the time for you to come to power is a long way off. Off to bed you go, little sister, or you'll sleep through the day and be awake at night." Something cold- the rim of a metal goblet- pressed to Yuu's lips. "Some poppy for your pain, Yuu. It'll help you sleep and not feel the sting."

Yuu drank, feeling his eyelids grow heavy as the drink kicked in and his tiredness grew. By the time he had drained the cup, the room had grown hazy, and strong hands were laying him to rest, drawing warm, heavy furs around him.

"Rest now, Yuuichirou," a voice indistinguishable in the haze of the drug said. "You have a long day ahead of you."

And so, he slept.

.

.

.

For a certain exhausted lord, sleep was a long way off.

Guren slipped out of the room where the future high guard of the Sanguinem heir slept, latching it closed as quietly as he could. Yuu had been given a pretty heavy dose of painkiller, but he had had the wild, restless look of one used to sleep lightly in case of conflict, and he didn't want to risk rousing him when he was already locked within the clutches of the drug. Trying to fight sleep, only to find yourself unable, was quite a terrifying experience.

And besides, he still had one last person to report to before he could rest. And while she was known for her tendency to be kind towards him, he still did not wish for the council to drag on for any longer than it needed to.

Down, down, down the twisting hallways, then up, up, up the flight of stairs. Guren followed a path that he knew by heart, sidestepping the servants already awakened by the light of early morning, and when at last he came to the closely-guarded double doors that lead to the high princess's bedchamber and commanded them to let him in, it was with the easy grace of one who had visited many times already, and already knew that he would be let inside.

The bed, when he walked in, was empty. That in itself did not surprise him. The royal family of Jiierda was well-known for being late to bed and early to rise, and her Highness Mahiru was no exception. What did surprise him, however, was the crying pup curled up on the floor beside the bed.

The child didn't have the features of anyone he recognized, which was a relief. Guren had been lord of his estate for many years, and he still did not know how to properly address the family members of his other fellow lords. But their clothing was ambiguous enough to confuse him about their rank.

"Oi," he said. The child only cried louder. "I said oi! What's your standing, pup?"

"She's the child of a slave I just released from captivity," came a quiet, amused voice, "a slave whose mother has died from the typhoid fever only hours before. I was trying to comfort her, but I see you have undone at least half of my work already, and with naught more than a few words, where I have struggled to soothe her for hours."

He stills as she walks in from the side room, quieting, paying no more attention to the hiccupping, sniveling pup on the floor in front of him. Mahiru was as graceful and as elegant as always, dressed like a queen even though the rest of her kingdom had not yet awakened. She's an alpha, a heiress, a goddess, and it shows in the way her eyes flash red in the light, in the long pale glint of her eyeteeth as she smiles sweetly and walks towards him, slow and confident with purpose. She's a knife's edge, the crackling, heavy calm before the storm, and he loves her, as achingly sharp and painful-sweet as the cold bite of a blade as it sinks under the skin, sliding graceful red arcs through the flesh.

"Guren," she murmured, stooping to pick up the mourning child. She looked like a mother when she did that, and it ached at his heart to see it. Mahiru's wish for a child was well-known, a wish that could not be granted until her father had died and she had stepped up to take the throne. His Majesty Tenri was not fond of competition, despite the amount of children he had fathered. "I see that you are well, albeit in quite some need of rest. I trust the mission went well?"

Empty words. She already knew that his mission had been successful- she was merely pushing his buttons, testing his patience to see if he would snap at her about being overly formal. Being bonded to two Hiiragis, one would think that Guren would have more patience for their teasing, but he was tired, and he knew his response would amuse her either way.

"You know I got the boy out, damn you." Focusing on his irritation was difficult, when she was watching him with loving amusement sparkling in her eyes and a child resting on her hip. The alpha within him longed for Shinya to be here, so that his pack would finally be together, but his logical mind knew better. Mahiru and Shinya had fought long for his affections before deciding to settle on a compromise; officially, according to the rest of the kingdom, they were still at war. Multiple partners was not unusual, but multiple alphas in a relationship were, especially those in higher standings, and some might see it as a coup against the current king if their relationship was to go public. Despite how harsh his words were sometimes, Guren loved his mates far too much to see them executed. "We almost lost him in the process, though. His parents decided that he had had enough of him, and tried to kill him by burning the house down." The garish memories of it- of stepping into burning heat, finding an unconscious child with his pants melted to his body, sheltered by a fallen beam and the charred remains of his mother's corpse, ironically protecting him after her death- haunted him greatly. "We got him before he got burned too badly, but he got bad smoke inhalation and some nasty wounds from the experience. He should heal well enough, but it will scar."

He could hear the bitterness and anger in his voice, and he knew that she could hear it too, and he knew that she knew how much the near-loss of Yuuichirou hurt him, how spending years standing by watching him be neglected caused him pain. The teasing edge to her smile softened, her scent growing noticeably stronger under the scent of the herbs she rubbed on her neck to disguise it as she tried to comfort him. She didn't offer any verbal reassurance. She knew that he hated sympathy, and that if she were to offer it, he would only respond with sarcasm and other scathing remarks. She and Shinya looked through him as easily as if he were naught but a scrap of faded parchment, and that, perhaps, was why he loved them, so achingly and fiercely that sometimes he felt like he could be crushed under the weight of it.

Instead, all she said was simply, "We'll see how he is when he wakes, then," and all she did was sweep past him to lay the now-sleeping pup on the bed to rest. He turned his head slightly to her as she turned around, and she responded with a kiss; not the wild, protective one that Shinya had given him, but one that was soft and sweet, warming him from the inside out.

The sun was rising over the mountains that lined the border, spreading blinding fingers of light into the room where the curtains failed to block them. Guren, lord of the western province, mate to the crown princes Mahiru and the adoptive prince Shinya, closed his eyes, breathed in the faint, sweet scent of his lover, and allowed his pain and guilt to wash away from his heart. There was a faint twinge from the scar that marked the right side of his neck, the side that tied him to Mahiru, letting him know that she knew of his decision, and approved.

They lingered in a moment of silence, entangled in the peace of one another- but such a silence was not meant to last, and before long, Mahiru's hand was on his chest, gently pushing him away towards the door. He went without protest, only reaching up to touch her hand where it touched him, and, too soon, they were standing before the double doors, her cool fingers touching his neck, his tired eyes fixed on hers.

"Rest," she murmured, sounding not like a queen for once, but like a lover. The tone of her voice made Guren's eyes close with longing. "You will sorely need it. The boy will be given a few weeks to heal, and a few weeks after that for his training to begin, and then he will be sent off to Sanguinem to be fostered, and for him and the prince to bond. And you are the only person that my father wants rid of badly enough to send you on the months-long trip."

"Reassuring," he murmured dryly- and yet he expected nothing else. Tenri had no love for him, and it had been Guren who demanded that Yuuichirou be pulled from his house before what had been planned, when he would be eight years of age. It would be just like him to force Guren to watch out the plan to its completion.

Mahiru smiled- a true smile, one that was rare for those of her family. And then she pressed one last kiss to his cheek, her breath tickling his skin, and opened the doors to walk him out, commanding him to rest in a tone that would not accept defiance.

Guren kept his eyes forward, his chin up, and his shoulders kept straight, until he had finally retreated within the comfort of his bedroom, and had the privacy to drop to a weary slouch and sprawl, bonelessly on the bed.

Weeks of training with a six-year old child, and then what could possibly be a months-long trip with said child over the treacherous mountain ranges that bordered the kingdoms of Jiierda and Sanguinem, directly into the capital of a kingdom that he had no love for, and had no love for him. Out of the fire, straight through the mouth of the lion's den. It sounded like hell, and Guren had no doubt that it would be- but then again, he had expected nothing less when he'd dragged a half-dead kid out of the burning wreckage of his parent's home and into the forgiving cold of the snow, the threat of insubordination meager in comparison to the way his instincts had screamed at him to protect. Whatever pain would come, he would be ready for it. And Guren Ichinose, true son and heir of his father, mate to two of the most powerful people in the kingdom, was not one to back down from a challenge.

He threw an arm over his eyes, shielding them from the bright light of morning, and laughed.


End file.
